


The Adventures of Jaeger and Newt

by Skull_Bearer



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon Disabled Character, Cliche, HIGH STAKES!, Hermann Gottlieb Has MS, Hermann is basically Iron Man, M/M, Newt is a Dork, SPILLS!, THRILLS!, TRUE LOVE!, VERY SILLY MISUNDERSTANDINGS, better living through engineering, romance!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FOLLOW the exiting adventures of Jaeger! </p>
<p>BEHOLD a city ruled by the dasterdly crime lord Hannibal Chau, where Jaeger is the last hope for justice!</p>
<p>MARVEL at the action! The death-defying risks!</p>
<p>SHAKE YOUR HEADS at how stupid two people in love can be!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which Skull Bearer writes cheesy superhero fic on demand. This is a cleaned up version of the 3 sentence fics I posted here: http://skull-bearer.tumblr.com/tagged/Jaeger-and-Newt-AU. Thank you for every who prompted me on this one!

Hermann tightens the screws on his leg supports, the exhausts on his rockets; there’s a slight delay in the response of one of his hands, and when he holds them both out. There’s a tremor there, he sighs, pulls out the neural jack on his wrists and shivers as his hand spasms, useless, sensation mostly gone as he cleans the jack one-handed and plug it in with a sigh of relief-

Feeling jolts back into his hand in a flurry of pins and needles, he flexes his fingers and they respond instantly, the message carried from his brain through copper and titanium, rather than the nerves which life-long multiple sclerosis had corroded and ruined.

Hermann stands, rejoicing in the easy, liquid motion of his steel suit, the crackle of electronic impulses through his exo-neural system. He lowers his hands turns his helmet up to look at the stars, visor feeding images to his brain, and activates the rockets with a flick of his thoughts.

The sky is his, open and bright and endless around him, faint starlight above, the far-away glow of streetlight below- there is no one here but him, there is nothing but him. He spirals down- soars up, up or down now mere notions, Hermann is _free,_ finally free from his long illness, from pain and loss and even gravity as he soars up in a long arch and dives- for no other reason than the sheer living _joy_ of it- of having no limits- of _freedom._

He pulls up just above the harbour, skimming the wave-tips and spinning a broad arc over the pier, he dips down just far enough to hide in the glare of the streetlights, just high enough to look down to the night street without being seen, letting his mind take in the sights and sounds of a home he has not stepped into for so long-

A cry catches his attention and Hermann kicks his rockets under him, knocking down the pressure until he’s hovering in place, scanning the streets for the source of the sound.

"Fuck you!" The shout draws Hermann’s attention to a deserted car park, he turns on one jet and sees a small group of people gathered by a chain link fence. Hermann lowers the rockets and starts to drift down, quietly; "Fuck off- Leave me the hell alone-"

The person shouting is half the size of the thugs cornering him, the remains of some midnight shopping burst around him. As Hermann sets down, one of the thugs grabs the man from behind as he tries to run, and another drives a fist into his stomach; the man gives an choked shout and Hermann’s vision goes red- no glitch in the monitor, but pure rage. He has been that man, was as a boy- a weak, easily tired, _clever_ boy, whose family had given up on him and his disease.

Hermann takes two steps and the ruffians see him, their eyes go wide-

No one has ever looked at Hermann like this; with _fear_ -

It does not last, one of the gang snarls and turn the two-by-four he’d been about to use on the man to Hermann. Hermann lifts his hand and it is just that easy, he catches the wood in mid-air and it crunches to splinters under his fist, the man’s mouth opens in shock and Hermann closes it with a swing of his armored fist.

The man goes down hard, the rest of the ruffians flee; Hermann gets two of them before the rest all but fly over the chain-link fence and flee screaming into the darkness.

Hermann finishes punching an anonymous tip to the police, and looks around to see the brave young man staring at him, eyes wide, mouth wider. His hair is a mess, and the rather- _colourful_ tattoos on his arms are mottled with bruises and blood; “I- _what_ -“

Hermann tries to keep his voice steady through the synthesizer, he has never been so near anyone but his silent and impersonal caretakers for years. “You should go to the hospital, those animals hurt you.”

The man gets up unsteadily, slightly hunched and rubbing his belly, and takes a step towards Hermann. Then, tentatively, another. So close Hermann can see the glimmer of hazel eyes behind cracked glasses, freckles in a stripe over his nose and both cheeks, Hermann’s mouth goes dry; “Who- who _are_ you-“

Hermann hesitates, then looks after the hooligans who nearly killed this man, so like those who had nearly killed Hermann when he was a child- the hooligans who he sent screaming away in terror-

"I’m Jaeger," He says finally, and throws out his jets and soars off into the night.

 

* * *

The chain all but crumbles under his hands and Hermann cannot get over the impossible _strength_ of his gauntleted hands, the frail brittleness of the padlock as he crushes it and tears the chain from the container- “Out! All of you out, quickly!”

The stunned people don’t move at once, which gives one of the gangsters time to grab his gun. The bullets spray and scatter where they hit Hermann’s armor and pock the shipping container; there’s a scream from inside and the people start streaming out-

Hermann jets up and hits the man with a roundhouse punch- he’s not sure what part of him he hits- but it doesn’t matter, he’s not getting up for a while.

The screams of police sirens make any other gangsters still capable of fighting reconsider, running into the alleys and warehouses and abandoning their unconscious companions. The trapped people are confused, milling and unsure where to run; Hermann hesitates, taking on height to see the police cars- they’re coming from the south.

He makes his decision, dropping down among the crowd; “Go that way,” he points east, “It’s away from the police cars and it’s the quickest way out of the yard, keep going and you’ll reach a residential area.”

Maybe not all of them understood him, but enough get the message and start running in the right direction for the others to follow. Hermann fires his jets and gains enough height to watch without being see, as the police arrive and swarm the area.

It’s not the first time Hermann watches them arrive, and wonders if he’s done the right thing. Not in rescuing these people- whatever the absurdly named _Hannibal Chau_ was planning with them, it was sure to be something other than what they had been hoping for- but in letting them go and not just letting the police catch them; was it the right thing?

Hermann sighs, kicks his jets back and lets the delight of the long flight home; the chill of the early morning air, the sheer freedom of the empty air.

He lands on the roof and scuffs sand over the growing number of scorch marks before opening the skylight and swinging down into his workshop.

The sun is rising by the time he reluctantly unscrews himself out of the suit and goes downstairs trailing wires.

He eases himself back into his chair; the world blurs as he unplugs the wires from his skull, and his fingers tremble and jerk, losing flexibility and control.

Hermann closes his eyes, relaxing into the padding and letting his breath out in a sigh- it had been _such_ a long night, and he does not feel much like the usual treatment at the hands of today’s carer-

"Bad night?" The voice makes him sit up, eyes snapping open.

"You’re not supposed to be here until Wednesday;" it comes out more accusing than he means it.

Newton rolls his eyes, “Yeah, bad night; good morning to you too, grumpy; Blumn had enough of your bad attitude, and foisted his shift on me, so you’re stuck with me for the rest of the week.”

"Delightful," Hermann leans back, and lets Newt take his chair and wheel him into the kitchen.

He will have to find a way of being even more intolerable to his Monday and Tuesday carer so he quits as well. Newton looks as though he needs the money, and for all his irritating chatter he is a surprisingly good cook, and his hands are gentle where they touch him.

He’s lovely to look at too, soft in the stomach, strong in the shoulders, comfortably full in the arse. He’d liked the look of him since that night in the car park, was quietly overjoyed when he had turned up on his door-

"Did you hear about the raid last night?" Newton’s voice cuts into his thoughts,

"What are you talking about?" Hermann growls, Newt rolls his eyes and pushes his chair in place at the kitchen table.

"Only that our resident superhero came in and beat up a whole bunch of that asshole Chau’s goons- they had a bunch of people they’d smuggled over the border; they were planning to sell them to the black market organ trade-"

"Do we have to talk about this before breakfast?" Hermann’s stomach revolves- _gott_ , he’d known it was bad, but _this_ -

Newt sighs theatrically, turning to start at the cooker; “Oh come on, it was totally heroic- innocents saved, bad guys beat up, Chau’s lost some more territory- wish Jaeger would deal with Chau’s landlords- it’s fucking extortion-“

"You rent from them?" Hermann sits up, horrified.

Newt looks at him in surprise, then his face shutters and he turns back to the frying eggs; “Yeah- not much choice round here if you need to be near the university- and your parents aren’t millionaires,” the last low- probably too low than he expected Hermann to hear,

Hermann wonders if there _is_ anything he can do- Jaeger is good for violence, but that level of low, miserable crime would be harder to deal with-

For a little while, there is silence but for the frying eggs, and the crackle of the bacon Newt adds. “He rescued me once, did I tell you?”

"About two dozen times," Hermann murmurs, but Newt either doesn’t hear, or doesn’t care, launching into the story for the umteenth time, waving a spatula to better illustrate the action scenes.

Quietly, somewhere deep inside Hermann, part of him wishes Newt would speak about him with so much joy, look at him with so much pride and admiration.

 

* * *

 

Hermann kicks his jets back and coasts over the district again- maybe it’s a waste of time, but after what Newt said about Chau’s landlord exhorters he’s been spending at least part of the night keeping an eye on this part of town- just in case.

Something catches Hermann’s eye, movement on the streets; he spins in the air and yes- some thugs are dragging people out of a building-

Hermann keeps his altitude, cutting the jets down to almost silent and gliding above them. They’re Chau’s goons all right, he recognises two of them- one of them still has a swollen bruise across his right eye and cheek where Hermann broke his cheekbone.

They are pulling people out of one of the miserable tenements- a small family, out in this miserable weather; snow coming on and in the middle of the night- as he watches; one of the goons punches a man in the stomach and starts kicking him when he topples over.

Hermann is about to drop altitude and teach them a very decisive lesson- when another shadow breaks away from the buildings.

The figure is running flat out, holding what looks like a crowbar; he reaches the first goon before the man really notices him- more interested in laughing at the man on the floor-

He hits the man in the stomach- the goon staggers, doesn’t go down, but the figure is already moving past him, bearing down on the rest of the astonished thugs with a howl of rage Hermann can hear even from this height.

He has to get down there, quickly, before the person gets themselves killed-

If nothing else, the mystery attacker is a useful distraction, the thugs are too busy staring at the newcomer to notice him as he lands behind them.

The gets to the two women first- the two pulling out their guns- he smashes their heads together quickly, before they can take aim.

 _That_ gets their attention.

The figure- who Hermann now sees is a man wearing a suit of green and blue leather patchwork and a grimacing mask- shouts and punches the air with his crowbar.

And gets a roundhouse punch from the first thug, knocking him down next to the man they had been brutalising.

Hermann wades in and takes that man out before he can close with his knife. His suit rattles and cracks with a force of a bullet- but holds, he takes the gunman out with a blast of concussive force from his gauntlets.

Two of the goons run, the one with the cracked cheekbone gets a matching broken arm, and three more and dumped head-down in the filthy, rat-ridden dustbins.

The family blinks at him, the two half-grown children grab their father and scurry back inside.

The masked man coughs and gets up, brushing himself off. “Hey, um- thanks for that;”

Hermann stops. _No_ , that is _not possible_ -

He steps over and pulls the mask off and-

"What are you _doing_?” His voice echoes, unrecognisable behind the helmet.

"Hey, I didn’t know you were coming!" Newt runs his fingers through his hair, "They might have killed that guy- _someone_ needed to do something-“

"Getting yourself killed as well?" God, if hadn’t been here- he’d have heard it afterwards, when Newt would not have come in the morning, and he would have had to follow it up, and- "Don’t do this again!"

Newt sighs, “It’s not just me- after you, people are thinking- _believe_ \- they can stop Chau; do you know what it’s been like around here?“

"You don’t have a suit- you’re not even _trained_ \- why do you-” Hermann breaks off,

Newt looks at him, blinks, “I just- wanted to do something,” He takes a step forward, touches Hermann’s arm,

"I-" The synapses don’t seem to be firing- he’s lost use of his tongue,

Newt looks up at him, his eyes big and bright and his smile lopsided, “Well- thank you,” his voice breaks to a murmur,

Hermann cannot look away, “You’re welcome,” he manages,

Newt leans forward on tiptoes, lifts his head back and brushes a kiss over the grate of Hermann’s helmet.

 

* * *

 

Newt’s shift is over- or it should be. He should be going, and Hermann should be pretending to get ready for bed- and instead getting his wiring together for another night as Jaeger.

But Newt doesn’t seem to want to leave, pottering around tiding up and chattering happily, and Hermann-

Hermann doesn’t want him to leave.

"If you’re not going," Hermann looks up, "You can get down a bottle from the cabinet."

Newt grins and grabs one, and two glasses. Hermann smiles- _gott_ , it’s wonderful to have someone who won’t refuse or mutter dire disapproval because he wants something as normal as a _drink_.

Newt pushes him to the table, and pulls up a chair. He’s a bit clumsy with the cork, but he gets it out and fills their glasses generously; “You okay with that?” He lifts the glass with a smile.

Hermann looks at his hand; under the sleeve he’s left in a wire, and his fingers are sure and steady as he lifts the glass in a toast. “To the most insufferable carer I’ve ever suffered.”

"To the most miserable ass I’ve ever looked after," they drink.

Three glasses gone, and Newt is smiling and leaning in. Two bottles, and he is a laughing drunk, sweet and disarming.

Hermann feels soft and fuzzy around the edges, the tension of his aching, damaged body fading into general incompetence.

He reaches for the bottle as the same time as Newt, their fingers touch.

Newt has touched him a hundred times- to get him into the bath, to get him out of bed, to help him eat on a bad day-

And Hermann has touched him a hundred more- a hand to steady himself, their fingers brushing when he takes a plate, am arm around Newt’s neck to brace himself getting in and out of his chair-

A hundred, hundred times, and nothing life this; Hermann looks up and meets Newt’s eyes and for a moment, he is in armour again- that first time, looking at young man he’s just saved from Chau’s thugs.

Hermann leans in, one arm thumping on the table, almost upsetting his glass, and Newt- _Newt-_

Newt leans in too, fingers crisping tight against his, Hermann sees his mouth open, a moment before his eyes close- he feels Newt’s breath against his cheek, his mouth- slides forward a little and _finally_ -

"No-" Newt starts back, and Hermann almost collapses on the table- the tension cut like strings.

"What-" he starts, sudden as cold as if a bucket of water had been dumped on him.

"I can’t-" Newt starts, then tries to smile- "Nothing- just- never mind-" He grabs his glass and swallows a mouthful.

He wants to pretend this didn’t just happen; but Hermann will not. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

"I just-" Newt looks down at his glass, then sighs, shoulders slumping; "Look, I really like you, but-"

"But what?" The wine has turned to acid in his belly, twisting and curling and sparking tears in his eyes he won’t let fall.

"I just- I- kinda- have someone else."

The acid turns to lead, Hermann feels the blood drain from his limbs, pools somewhere near his feet. “I’m sorry,” of course Newt does- _of course_ \- why would he be waiting for _Hermann_ \- broken, useless _worthless_ Hermann, when he could have anyone- anyone at all-

"No-" Newt sets down his glass, looks almost near tears himself. "I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry-" He gets up, "I’d better go-"

"Please don’t." Hermann doesn’t care that he’s all but begging.

Newt hesitates at the door, “I’m not quitting,” and a bit of the sickening lead dissolves a little.

"They’re very lucky," he manages to get out, "To have you, I mean,"

Newt shrugs, “They don’t know, it’s- stupid I guess.”

Hermann’s heart aches and, for once, it’s not entirely for him. “They are the fool then.”

"Nah, just me."

"Who is it?" For all it breaks his heart, perhaps he could do something- as Jaeger- to help-

"You’ll laugh," Newt smiles, just a little, his hand on the doorhandle, door already half-open.

"I most certainly will not."

"It’s Jaeger," and with that, Newt is gone, the door sliding closed behind him.

Hermann stares after him for a full three minutes, mouth open, eyes wide.

 

* * *

 

Newt has barely closed the front door behind him, eyes stinging with tears he refuses to let fall, when the sheer _idiocy_ of what he’s just done hits him-

_What was he thinking?_

He had Hermann- gorgeous, snarky, sweet Hermann- a heartbeat from kissing him, eager and happy and _oh so gorgeous_ and all he’d needed to do was to just lean in and taste those lips, that broad, acid, mobile mouth-

And what had he done instead?

All but fucking _run away_ , leaving Hermann almost fucking _crying_ \- and why- why the hell did he even-

For Jaeger, for a guy he’d met twice and shared maybe a dozen words with- because his stupid fucking _broken_ brain decided he wanted a Lois Lane/Gwen Stacy fantasy more than he he wanted something _real_.

Real like Hermann, warm and solid and stubborn and brave; arguing with him over everything, maddening and aggravating and _oh so sexy_ \- that smile, those eyes, those gorgeous delicate hands-

"Fuck;" Newt stops, slumps against the wall and covers his face in his hands, the tears sting his eyes and he can’t help it- he lets them fall. Who’s gonna see it anyway- not Hermann, who’s probably sobering and wondering why the hell he ever wanted Newt anywhere _near_ him in the first place-

"Fuck," his hands wander into his hair, he tightens his grip and _pulls_ \- the pain is a shock, and Newt catches his breath raggedly.

 _'Don’t, please_ -' All that pain, in just two words and- fuck, isn’t that a lesson in how fucked up the world is; that _Hermann_ , who’s so smart and awesome is left having to beg after a shithead like _Newt_ because Newt was all he had-

And Newt had broken his heart.

Fuck, why does he think _Jaeger_ would have had anything to do with him- as though the guy would ever care. If he even was a guy and not some kind of- robot, or something-

And although Newt doesn’t think he would care if he was, even the memory of their two meetings- the brilliant and vivid lights of his life so far- pale in comparison to Hermann’s wretched, _broken_ voice;

“ _Don’t, please,”_

Newt takes a deep, shuddering breath, and braces himself to go back. Fuck pride, fuck common sense, fuck _Jaeger_ ; he’s just made the biggest fucking mistake of his life. All he can do is go back and beg and plead and hope Hermann might one day forgive him.

HIs heart wrenches at the thought, raging at the idea of giving up a cherished dream; to be- if not a superhero, then the next best thing-

Newt crushes it brutally. He has always refused to give up his dreams; his PHDs, his band- but for once, he’s getting rid of this one. The cost is too fucking high.

No amount of midnight fantasies of rescue and superhero clichés are going to make up for throwing away what might be the best thing that has ever happened to him.

For a moment, he considers telling Hermann this, as he starts back down the alley towards Hermann’s building, but- no, that’s too much like saying he’s considering Hermann second best; only taking him since he could never have Jaeger. Hermann would never accept being second best, being a pity-fuck-

 _Hermann,_ Newt tries it out in his head, _I’m the biggest fucking moron in this city and I have no idea why you want me-_

Not, he’s making it too much about him-

_Hermann, you are fucking wonderful and sexy and anyone with any sense would want you- and you’ve always said I’ve got no sense so I guess you were always right about that-_

No, that makes it sound like he _doesn’t_ want Hermann-

Maybe he should just throw himself at Hermann’s feet and beg forgiveness-

And a club comes out of the darkness and cracks on the back of Newt’s head, and his recriminations blur to tinnitus as the world goes black.

 

* * *

 

The cold air hits Newt first, sharp and chill as a knife, working its way through his clothes and making him shiver.

"I’d hold _very_ still, in your place.”

Newt freezes because- he knows that voice, only from a distance, when he’s been too far into the wrong part of town on the wrong night, and left with a few bruises and cracked ribs for his troubles. “Chau.”

"I’m the least of your problems right now, little guy,"

Newt opens his eyes, and screams.

The world is a _thousand miles_ below him, a gaping void only inches from his feet, the wind claws into his mouth and steals the sound away, freezing his lungs.

Chau grabs him by the hair and yanks him back, and only now Newt notices he’s been tied to a - frail, creaking- television aerial, the branches swaying just above his head.

His breath comes in shudders and gasps, Chau is laughing; they’re on the top of the highest skyscraper in the city, the rest of the world spread out beneath their feet- although Chau is behind the guard rail.

"Enjoying the view?"

Newt would like to say something snarky and witty, but all he can manage is a hoarse sob.

"Bet you get used to it, flying around with that tincan, all these lovely views-" he pushes Newt forward- just a little- it’s not much, but it’s enough to make the aerial shift and groan, and the view of the long, long way down to the pavement fills Newt’s vision, he screams again.

Chau yanks him back. “But we aren’t here to enjoy the view- I’m here to hear you _talk_ , you aggravating little shit.”

Newt tears his eyes from the drop, drags his head around to stare at Chau- grey haired, brutish, eyes hidden behind dark glasses, “What-” it’s barely a word,

"You heard me," and Chau pushes him forwards- more this time, the aerial bends under Newt’s weight and the concrete slips under his feet. "You’re gonna tell me everything you know about that son of a bitch _Jaeger_ \- or you’re going down this building headfirst!"

 

* * *

 

Finally, it seems that Chau believes him, “You’re just some punk kid? Ain’t ya?” He yanks Newt’s head up.

"I don’t know anything!" Newt doesn’t know how long he’s been screaming the same words- they’ve started to lose all meaning.

"No, you fucking _don’t_!” Chau jerks his head back and lets go, turning away, “You’re some- fucking _moron_ that bastard felt sorry for! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t-” He moves so quickly Newt barely sees him, and then he’s right next to Newt, one hand starting to push the aerial backwards-

"No- wait-" Newt doesn’t even knows what he’s going to _say_ -

Chau’s face is inches away, gold-capped teeth bared, “Wait for what?”

Newt opens his mouth, closes, opens it again- he doesn’t know.

Chau snorts, smiles; then pulls him back up again. Newt chokes, tries to steady his breathing, knees buckling.

"He felt sorry for you," Chau is still smiling and somehow that’s worse than if he’d shoved Newt off the roof; "Fang! Get your boys, set up on that rooftop over there- and get this out on the police radios, I want that tincan to hear what we’re doing to his little boyfriend!"

Newt chokes, Chau turns and grins at him again, “When you see him coming, blast him out of the sky.”

"But-" Newt wants to say something- _anything_ \- he’s standing, but it feels like the entire world is falling around him- _make it stop_ -

He might not have been there- Newt screws his eyes closed- if he had _just had the sense_ to not leave Hermann; to have _stayed_ and kisses him and- he wouldn’t be here, he’d have missed Chau’s psycho crew and would be home by now; or still with Hermann, in that big bed and Hermann-

Fuck, Hermann; the first he’s going to know about this is tomorrow when Newt doesn’t come in- the police aren’t going to tell, they’re all on Chau’s payroll- and he’s going to think he’s driven Newt away-

He chokes, feel chill tears prick his freezing face; the wind cuts straight through his clothes and he shivers. The broadcast must have gone out and Newt just hopes it’s all been in his head- Jaeger does not care about him, will not come to save him and be killed in the attempt-

He could not have been here, he could have been in Herman’s bed, with Hermann, safe and warm and happy and-

_Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck_

 

* * *

 

Hermann is already half in the suit when the call comes in on his hacked police radio; it’s been very useful, Chau has always informed to police they need to be well away from whatever he’s doing.

But this time- oh _gott_ , this time-

Hermann fumbles with his gauntlets, has to stop and take several deep breaths before he can bring himself to continue, everything in him screaming to _go_ to go _now_ before Chau can hurt Newt or push him off the building or-

Deep breath, calm, in, out. Hermann checks and double check the connections, flexes his body within the suit, testing responsiveness. It’s only when he’s sure he and it are moving as one than he ignites the jets and fires off into the air.

He will not help Newt by getting killed while saving him.

Chau is using Newt as bait for him; on the top of the tower he must have teams on top of the buildings- Hermann kicks his jets into neutral and brings up a display on the inside of his visor; the tower, the surrounding rooftops-

Too many open spaces, anyone on the roofs would have a clear shot at him when he approached- if he was fast enough though-

They were expecting that; it would be too dangerous, if he failed-

If he waited much longer it wouldn’t make a difference, not to Newt;

Hermann exhales slowly, and brings up the tower schematics- it’s a typical office block- equally spaced floors and the central shaft of the elevators running down the middle-

To the roof.

Hermann smiles and tucks himself into a dive.

 

* * *

 

The streets are mercifully empty at this time, and Hermann keeps building his speed as he drops down to rocket along only meters above the ground.

Five meters-

Four-

Two-

The roar of a lorry fills his visor and Hermann jinks left just in time, the slipstream knocking him off balance and almost sending him spiralling into a nearly building. He kicks his jets to full power and rights himself, swinging back over the asphalt.

Hermann grits his teeth as he approaches the tower, forcing himself further down and building to full speed-

One meter-

Half a meter-

The world blurs around him, the wind scream, the asphalt seems to ripple as he blows along just above it-

He barely has time to see Chau’s thugs outside the building; they are standing around, smoking and laughing when he turns the corner on a hair and blasts towards them- two are thrown off their feet by the force of his passing, and the glass doors explode almost before he hits them.

The entrance desk shatters and he barely notices it, the carpeting smoulders and sparks- Hermann grits his teeth and closes his eyes, bracing for impact-

He hits the elevator doors like a cannonball, they split open almost instantly, the blow numbing his shoulder and slowing his speed down just enough for Hermann to get his feet under him and keep from splattering against the concrete walls;

He fires up the shaft, only daring a quick glance down to check that yes, the lifts are in the basement; he lets his boots carry him up, hands braced behind him in anticipation of the final floor- as they fly past along too fast to see-

Twenty floors to the top-

Eighteen-

Thirteen-

Nine-

Six-

Four-

Two-

Just before the final floor Hermann activates his hand blasters, and kicks his legs behind him;

He hits the door only just above ground level- kills his speed just as he hits the fire-door to the roof-

And runs head-first into Hannibal Chau.

His momentum knocks Chau off his feet and carries them both over the roof, the railing splintering under them.

Chau screams, Hermann only just has time to catch him before he is sent toppling hundreds of feet to the ground.

Behind him, Hermann can see the anti-air crew, frozen on their rooftop, staring at them. Chau thrashes in his grasp in panic, kicking out and throwing off a shoe-

Hermann tries to catch his breath, for a moment staring at Chau, uncertain what he is even supposed to _do_ with the crime lord, now he’s caught him-

And a scream- a scream from such a familiar voice that it sends ice through Hermann’s body- comes from behind them.

He turns, and Newt-

Newt had been tied to the television aerial, and the concussion of Hermann’s entrance must have knocked him over the side- he’s screaming in panic, trying to regain his footing as the aerial slowly bends under his weight.

Hermann freezes, he can’t carry two with the suit, and he can’t just _drop_ Chau-

And in that last moment, with a deep, horrible _twang_ , the aerial gives way.

Newt gives a final, panicked shriek, and falls.

Something in Hermann moves for him, he turns and throws Chau at his goons on the rooftop, barely waiting to see him hit them- overturning their mortar- before diving.

 

* * *

 

Newt can’t even scream- the wind crushing the breath from his lungs and he’s deafened by it, spinning in mid-air and trying to get himself upright- land feet first-

Even if he somehow survives this, he’ll never walk again- he’ll be completely broken-

And Newt would take that- Hermann lived with worse- but he’s not going to survive- he’ll land flat on his back on the concrete and just- be crushed-

Then arms come up around him, and Newt opens his eyes.

Jaeger is up against him, falling together, arms around Newt- both head-first now- the ground rushing up to meet them-

And Jaeger turns in midair, throwing out his jets and turning them almost ninety degrees in midair; and Newt can’t breathe or speak or even think because he’s not falling any more- he’s _flying_ -

The concrete slips away under them as they fly through the streets, slowly rising over the shops the balconies, the rooftops.

Newt chokes as they finally slow, behind Jaeger, he can see the tower in the distance, a thin line of light against the sky; he swallows- and when that doesn’t help, turns his head down and throws up into the darkness below.

He shudders and retches again, hanging limp in those hard, unyielding arms; and when he looks up-

Jaeger is looking at him; those glowing eyes, that expressionless face- but he holds Newt close with one arm, and with the other, wipes the tears and mess from his face; “Are you alright?” The voice is synthesized, but soft, gentle; he leans in closer, the metal mask filling Newt’s vision.

And it’s- it’s everything Newt has been dreaming of for- a year, nearly; the heroic rescue, his saviour, a flight across the sky, and now, maybe, a kiss-

And right now, all Newt wants, more than ever, is to be back with Hermann- to tell him what a _fucking_ _idiot_ Newt has been and plead for his forgiveness.

And Jaeger is still looking at him- Jaeger, a fucking superhero, who risked his life to save Newt’s and took out Chau and who- who the hell knows why- _cares_ for Newt-

What the hell is _wrong_ with Newt, that two sweet, incredible people care about him- and he’s going to have broken _both_ their hearts now.

"Shit man, I’m _sorry_ ;” It’s not dignified, it’s a wail, but Newt’s in no shape to care, “I’m so, so fucking sorry-“

"Hush," and his arm shifts, the other comes up, holding Newt close until his face is buries in the dented, battered shoulder. "It was not your fault."

Newt chokes, tears coming faster because it is _entirely_ his fault and Jaeger just _doesn’t get it_. “No man I- I’m sorry, I can’t- you and me-” he waves a hand between them, “I can’t- _I’m so sorry_ -“

Jaeger goes still in midair, and Newt is pathetically grateful he can’t see his expression behind that mask because everything about his body language screams devastation and bewilderment- “I thought-” his voice shakes.

"Oh shit, I’m sorry, I just- there’s someone else;" Newt rubs his face, the tears and snot are almost painfully cold at this altitude.

"Someone else." Jaeger repeats, and slowly starts killing his jets, sending them drifting down towards a nearby rooftop; "But- you _said_ -“

"I- look, thanks so much for the rescue, and I think you’re amazing but- _I barely know you_ and there’s- this other guy, a really cool, sweet guy and he’s brave and annoying and stubborn and I-” Newt swallows, “I broke his heart and I gotta get back and- make it right-“

"Make it right," Jaeger repeats, although he looks less stiff now, Newt smiles, shakily.

"Yeah, I mean, it’s great this Lois Lane-Superman thing we’ve got going but I kinda- I’m a moron- I’m sorry for hurting you but I- I love this guy Hermann. I gotta go-"

And Jaeger lets him go.

Newt screams- or tries to, he falls less than a foot before his feet hit the gravel of a rooftop, he stumbles,

"You are," Jaeger lands with a thud, starts fumbling with his gauntlets, "Without a doubt," He shakes one, gets a better grip, “The most _aggravating,_ ”

The gauntlet comes off, revealing a hand covered in wires, “ _infuriating_ ,”

The bare hand and the gauntleted one come up and start pulling at his helmet, “ _impossible_ ,”

The helmet comes free with a pop, Jaeger rolls his head forward to get it off “ _incorrigible_ ,”

He throws the helmet away, under it, Hermann’s face is bright red, “ _bastard_ I have ever had the misfortune to meet!”

Newt stares, mouth open- there are no words- his whole body feels empty, his head in completely blank, “ _Herms-_ ”

Hermann points at him- a gauntleted finger, “Don’t you _dare_ say another word you utter- _idiot_ \- unless you- you come here right now and- and kiss me!”

Somewhere inside Newt, beyond the emptiness and blankness, something rises like the sun- a huge balloon of pure joy, “ _Hermann_.”

"Not another word or I’ll- mmmmpf-" And anything Hermann was trying to say is lost when Newt hurls himself at him, and crushes their mouths together.

 


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a few extra prompts and decided to tie this off.

The final work takes weeks to complete; it’s not just the physical work, the constant, careful applications of local anesthetic as Newt carefully cuts through the surface layers of Hermann’s skin, sponging off the blood to lay the thin, insulated wires and fold the skin back over, sometimes even having to punch in stitches;

But there’s also the documentation, Hermann keeps notes as Newt works, and they are both keeping vocal diaries; but Newt spends days on his careful plans before an operation, and days afterwords on results and corrections;

If this is successful, then although it is still crude, painful and difficult, they have the beginnings of one of the most important scientific breakthroughs since penicillin.

Newt stays, and Hermann doesn’t ask him to leave; although Chau’s currently under investigation, the reluctant police shored up by Hermann’s lawyers, he feels restless and sleepless whenever Newt returns to his home, and having him settled here for well over a month-

Newt takes several trips to bring his things over, and although Hermann scorns the Godzilla posters that now ornament his walls- it brings some colour to his home, warms and furnishes a place left cold for so long.

Hermann pulls his eyes off the offensive things, and glances over at Newt; he’s a lovely presence in the bed, warmer than an electric blanket; solid and comfortable when Hermann rolls clumsily to settle against him;

Newt hums happily, sliding a hand over Hermann, Hermann carefully closes his fingers over it; Newt claims he will iron out the stress and tension that keeping himself wired for extended periods causes- but Hermann does wonder if he’s simply lost the habit of having a fully functioning body- if he ever had it in the first place, given how early it had started;

Perhaps people who have only just lost function would be able to stay wired up all day and all night, but Hermann has found ten hours is his comfortable limit;

It’s enough- it’s more than he could have dreamed; he simply powers down and feels his body lose coordination, loosen- _relax_ ;

And lying here, with Newt beside him, the first light of morning just peering through the curtains; Hermann can think himself as content;

And utterly, completely happy.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s after a mission- some of Hannibal’s gang trying to intimidate the prosecuting attorneys; it was strange, Hermann had gotten there and the thugs were already on edge, and after he’d scattered them he’d found four knocked out and bloody behind a fence;

If this was Newt trying his stupid Kaiju superhero persona again, he would be sleeping on the sofa until he’d personally burnt every piece of that absurd costume before Hermann’s eyes-

But the doubt nags, Newt as a superhero hadn’t been able to do more than give one thug a nasty bruise and almost get himself killed, how could he had done that much damage-

And if he didn’t do it, who did?

And maybe, during the flight Hermann was too distracted to pay too much attention at keeping a low profile, because when he gets into his darkened workshop and starts the slow, laborious process of getting himself out of the suit-

"You need to take more care, Dr Gottlieb,"

Hermann _jumps_ , knocking over a line of screwdrivers, his hand is up and the blasters are warming with barely a thought; “Who are you!” He snarls, then, with a sinking sickening feeling in his gut, “What have you done to Newt!”

"Dr Geiszler received an urgent phonecall from a friend and won’t be back for a few more minutes," the dark figure hasn’t moved, doesn’t seem at all worried about the weapon trained on him, "He is perfectly fine, I just wanted to give us a change to talk,"

Hermann pauses, there’s _something_ about the man’s stance, the utter fearlessness, his calm, confident voice- as though nothing could hurt him-

It was what Hermann felt, while in the suit.

"That was you," Hermann slowly lowers the gauntlet, "at the attorney’s house, you took care of those thugs,"

"They had prepared an ambush for you, I thought it prudent,"

The thought that he wasn’t thought capable rankles a little, “I’m not the only one, am I? There are others,”

"Did you think you were the only superhero in the world?"

The lights come on, and Hermann is looking at a tall, dark man; the man gazes back at him steadily, and there’s something about the set of that stern, handsome face, the confidence of how he holds his body, that makes Hermann relax and straighten at the same time; he fights down the urge to salute;

"Who are you?" He manages,

"My name is Marshall Stacker Pentecost, I’m here to talk to you about the Shatterdome initiative."

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone wanting more Iron Man fic can prompt me on my tumblr!
> 
> http://skull-bearer.tumblr.com


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